


Fucked from the Off

by angelheartbeat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Developing Relationship, Growth, Intimacy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Personal Growth, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self Confidence Issues, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 18:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/pseuds/angelheartbeat
Summary: From the first time Jake reads orange text and a dry wit, he's utterly intoxicated.It was all going so well.





	Fucked from the Off

**Author's Note:**

> its been sixteen years. i rise, slowly, from my grave. i have a cold. homestuck rises with me, fueled by new weekly trolls. the fandom is rising once more. this is the apocalypse.

The first time you meet him is online, as would be expected. You assume he's from your time - why on earth would you assume anything different?

He's funny. He speaks in orange sarcasm and extended metaphors that make you chuckle. You often think about them long after he's logged off, differing timezones meaning your schedules often collide. He's overwhelmingly thought-consuming.

His name is Dirk. It suits him.

Honestly, did you ever even really have a chance?

You were, well and truly, fucked from the off.

* * *

You remember the conversation - how perhaps, if he be a girl, the two of you would make a good couple.

It set your mind to racing as your legs did the same - Hellmurder Island was not to be trifled with on an off day - why should there only be the possibility, the alternative universe where heterosexuality is your constancy and this hesitancy you feel about saying no to this universe doesn't exist.

You don't think its very heterosexual when your heart pumps at the sight of him logging on. 

He's intoxicating, and it keeps you up at night thinking about him.

* * *

When he tells you when hes from, you believe him. You've always been a firm believer in believing, and you have no reason to doubt him. If he's what the future holds, you have new incentive to fight back against the monsters on your island.

You were running out.

* * *

He sends you a gift, a sparring partner, and you find yourself admiring how much it looks like him - for all of the few minutes it stands idle before shooting into the forest to prepare to jump on you.

It makes you incredibly jumpy. Its worse than the monsters - something that looks so very much like the one you want to cradle you close and kiss you softly, hellbent on springing out at the worst possible times.

You attack it valiantly, guns blazing, every time, as he wanted it. It scares you.

* * *

The game is cold and unforgiving. You lose your home. Its left behind on a planet likely to be destroyed, and you're flung into a relationship with someone you've been wild about for you don't know how long now.

Its everything you've ever wanted, and more. Its wonderful. Its terrifying. You love it.

* * *

Its stifling. Its ensnaring, worse than the vines on the island you miss so much.

You love your new adventure, your new paramour, your new life, but you miss the old one oh so terribly.

You're meeting new people. You're exploring and retreating into yourself and adventuring.

You're drifting away from Dirk.

You talk to Jane about it and instantly feel bad - you always bother others.

What is wrong with you?

* * *

You turn neon and sugary, and for a while, all your problems drift away into a cloud of pixie dust and manical laughter.

He breaks up with you.

You don't know what you expected.

And then all your problems return, sharp and icy like a swift kick in the gut and a resounding slap to the face.

You can't think about them for long. You're Hope. You hate it.

You feel exposed, disgusting, somehow. You always wanted to be sexy like those movie adventurers. Not like this.

Dirk doesn't seem to care. A version of him appears, like it has done in the past, a comforting presence, sharply sarcastic. You miss him, even when he's there.

* * *

Jane is cold, and red, and harsh, and not herself, but the words still hurt. You can't stand it, any of it.

You're cold and terrified and in jail wearing little more than a speedo, and you miss Dirk.

He's there. Fake Dirk. He's not real, and you miss him.

You went so badly wrong.

People keep using you, and you cry and you cry and you cry and no one seems to hear you.

And then you die, and it seems to be all for naught.

* * *

You're back. And you're fighting.

And its still scary and you wish to any God there is - you don't count, you can't be a God, you're just a kid, a silly little kid with a gun - that you were back on your island where the only thing to worry about were some silly little monsters and Dirk's death contraption. There are all sorts of new monsters now.

You want to go home.

And then its over.

* * *

The new world is much like home, but you don't feel like it. Everything's off, like its been put through a grainy filter and blurred in the wash.

 _You're_ off.

Everyone else settles in nicely, but for a while you just float around aimlessly. Its cold, but you're used to that at this point.

Dirk still kicks around in your brain, both the faux-presence you created and the lingering sensation of the real thing.

You miss him so much it hurts, but company sounds like hell.

You force yourself to endure it.

You play football with him.

It almost rips a hole in your chest.

Its hard to look at Jane, or anyone for that matter. You don't like eye contact anymore, or people touching you. You've changed. You hardly recognise yourself anymore.

Tavros is a comforting presence, even as a game construct, and you're glad you have him. He seems to understand you. Maybe its a page thing.

You force yourself to be around Dirk. It's painful. He says your name much too much and it makes you think about jail cells and possessed friends and mind control and fear.

You don't let it slip. You try to let your guard down.

Its almost easy to fight him, now, just releasing feelings upon a reason for so much anguish, and having an excuse for him to hurt you, because you don't feel quite worthy of his tender caresses and soothing whispers.

He gets you to relax. You do the same in turn.

It takes a long, long, time. You never really recover.

You always were fucked from the off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i havent read homesfuck in three decades. correct events? whos she?
> 
> this is. an incoherent mess. its closing in on 1am and im delirious on cold germs and too much chocolate.
> 
> merry christmas. happy hanukkah. happy holidays. is this fandom even relevant anymore? i joined it back in april and god what a long time ago that feels like


End file.
